To Remember
by StarsOfYaoi
Summary: *Gen-ish, various nations* For a single day, once every century, all Nations come together. Sharing memories, sharing hope. Against wars, against pain, the Nations are still intertwined with each other at the light of a candle.


**SOY:** from the kink meme, this is an old post. The prompt was "once a year, all nations gather to honor the memory of nations that ceased to be; toasts, reminiscing, short speeches and everyone respecting each other and getting along for one night. Slightly sad, but not without hope."

I hope I could make it worth the prompt.

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**Rating**: K+ for angst.

**Warnings:** Angst, mentions of war but nothing serious.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

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**To Remember**

**One–shot**

They're all standing there in silence.

It's strange.

The meadow isn't terribly big, but it looks even smaller with all of them standing there, not talking, not moving; it should be a pleasant view, because the grass is lush and there is a small river on the side, but it isn't.

They are all there –all the nations Germany has met, some he has yet to meet, unknown ones, quiet ones. They should be at war against each other, some are not even involved, so why…?

Why are they all gathered together?

Why isn't anyone attacking, why are they silent, not treading insults?

It's growing dark. The shadows of the night are approaching fast, and the sight of the sunset is both beautiful and frightening, the reds and oranges all smashed together, visible above the line of trees, and Germany feels his heart constrict in his chest without a reason.

It looks like something is about to start, but he doesn't know what.

His muscles are tense, and he's uncomfortable, dressed formally as Italy asked him to, without weapons either. Weak, exposed. But he trusts Feliciano, even if he's an unreliable ally most of the time. Besides, he can feel it –how this day is different, somehow.

So he stands still, together with the rest of the Nations, and waits for someone to explain.

Many, if not all, nations have reunited together, and Ludwig feels left out, because it seems he's the only one who does not know what's going on.

On the other side, actually, China and Japan look pretty uncomfortable too, and there is another Nation next to them that Germany has never met before, who seems unable to feel the heavy atmosphere, because he's smiling and waving too–long sleeves around.

In a corner, sitting on a rock, Switzerland is polishing his gun, but his shoulders are actually relaxed and he doesn't appear to be up to shoot anyone. Liechtenstein is huddling closer to him, eyes close.

There is England –and it's freaky he's so close to Italy, who smiles at him without talking… it's freaky mostly because Ludwig is familiar with Feliciano running away from Arthur, not being this… friendly with him.

Hungary is standing tall, and is holding onto Austria's arm; Roderich's eyes meet Ludwig's, and the Austrian nods at him, face grave. Germany realises his own brother must be somewhere, but it's so dark he can barely see the nations closer to him.

Greece is sitting with his back to a tree, and next to him, silent presence, with a hood over his head, is Egypt; Egypt's eyes are following Turkey, who is smoking and staring at the voluptuous smoke puffs lifting to the sky.

On the side, there is France. He's strangely clothed, and his hands are at his sides, which probably freaks Germany more than anything else. Francis is not groping anyone, nor hitting on them, nor…

He's just standing, quiet, and shares some kind of look with Spain, who is also standing still.

America is standing with some twin–wannabe and, surprisingly, with Romano, Italy's brother. They seem somewhat subdued, and the sight is just as wrong as the rest of it is.

Ludwig feels like he's fallen into some sort of nightmare.

It's with a start that Germany notices Belgium coming towards him. He doesn't know what to do, as during war he's been forced to do things he abhorred, and she's been one he has hurt, as well as many others. He wants to back away from her, but can't.

"Welcome, Ludwig" she states, almost pleasantly, and Germany's shoulders suddenly relax. She's still speaking with him, there is no hatred in her eyes. It relieves him so much, in a way he wouldn't even have thought possible. "I'm glad you could come".

He doesn't reply, because he doesn't know what to say, but at least she's broken the silence, and he's glad for this.

Germany still does not know what they're doing, and why they're standing with enemies and strangers in a meadow in the middle of the forest of Switzerland, all dressed formally, in their nation–traditional attires.

"Why are we here?" he finally asks, feeling silly because of his own hushed tone.

To his surprise, it's not Belgium who answers him, but France. He's moved closer to him, understanding his confusion, and Ludwig feels Japan shift closer as well. Somewhere at the corner of his vision, China and that other Nation also move near, to listen.

"You're young, _Allemagne_" France's tone does not show any hatred or dismay. He's just talking. He clutches a sack, and he's offering it to him. "A century ago you were not yet born. This day, as it has been in the past, is to celebrate and to mourn, to remember and let go… once every century, just this once, we come together as what we are".

Ludwig hesitantly holds up his hand, and France deposits something in his hand. It's darker now, and even though it is a full moon night, it's still hard to see, underneath the shadows of the trees, but Germany realises he's holding a long, creamy candle.

He looks up, and feels Italy hug his arm as he grabs a candle himself, offering one to Japan and China and the other Nation. Italy is not smiling, either. He still looks as serious as he was in the morning, when he asked his two allies to go with him.

No further explanations are offered, but somehow, Ludwig understands. He shares a look with his enemies, first France, then England and China, and sees Japan hesitantly look up at the two other Asian nations.

He feels his tension drain away from his shoulders, and finally is able to relax. The crease between his eyebrows mellows down, and he finds himself filled with a strange sort of calm.

They're standing together as Nations. For this single day, they're not touched by war or enmity… they are just existing, together. Older Nations with younger ones, small territories and the more enormous ones, Nations at war, Nations in peace, Nations frail through battles and hatred, Nations standing aside…

Nothing of this matters anymore.

Italy's grasp on Germany's arm slackens, and he's the first to move, directing the others together. They all shift and walk closer now, each and everyone of them with a candle clutched in their hands.

There is again, a deep silence, before Italy, now standing in the middle, takes a deep breath.

A flame burns suddenly, and Feliciano's candle is lit up. Ludwig almost closes his eyes at the light, surprised at just how it stands, in the silence, in the dark. Bright.

A small flame, burning strong.

Then, Italy moves. He slides from Nation to Nation, with a smile for each of them –the candles are being lit, one after the other, and every light looks like a small, flickering star.

Italy passes in front of china and smiles, his candle meeting China's and firing it up, then to the other unknown nation, who has sobered up, then to Belgium and then it's his own turn, and Italy looks into his eyes, asking for reassurance, and Ludwig nods, holding out his candle to the Italian.

Some wax dribbles down the length of the candle, stopping half–way down, thankfully without reaching his skin, but all Germany can look at are the lights, now burning strong, nations standing and holding them.

It's somewhat beautiful. Threads that bind them all together, that single, starting flame that created so many more, and they were all standing together, unmindful of their differences, unmindful of any pain or sadness or hatred–

He closes his eyes, feeling Italy shift in place at his side.

Germany remembers. Remembers of when he was young, and things looked so much easier. Remembers of Prussia, promising to make him great. Remembers, and is filled with a different kind of warmth.

It tastes of grass and dew and freedom.

"I remember Nonno Roma… he was strong" it's Italy talking, he recognises the voice, but the tone is hushed, different. It vibrates and wavers of pain and affection.

Ludwig doesn't open his eyes.

"He was a warrior, with strength and scars to prove it" Italy continues, words echoing in the dark, flames wavering at the slightest whiff of wind. "But his smile was warm when he looked at me, eyes deep with care".

They all look at him, and Germany does that too, opening his eyes. There is happiness in Feliciano's eyes. He's not mourning. He's sharing memories, and in doing so, he's making them real and strong again.

He tells a story. It's said in simple words that everybody can understand, it's murmured like the sound of water flowing through a canal, like birds chirping in the morning, like a day spent running through never–ending plains.

It feels so real, that Germany can almost see his admired Roman Empire standing in front of them, smiling proudly, tall and strong. Other voices join in, a chorus of memories all twisting and shifting together, moulded into a single harmonic song.

"I remember μητέρα… she was beautiful" Heracles murmurs, when Italy's voice fades into nothing, and his memories hum into silence. "Her hands wore golden rings, her hair was as black as charcoal. She used to tell me stories of ancient heroes, of humans and tragedies".

Greece speaks. His voice is strong but hushed, speaks of a past that tastes of sweat and candid linen, of majestic buildings in pearly marble and stones, of languid evenings watching the sea, composing poems and songs.

The whispers continue, uttered slowly, but trembling with emotions, Turkey rough voice, Romano's mutters, England's soft tones, America's earthy words… and it's… Germany can't touch what he's feeling, but he's glad he could be there to share this.

Because they're one, and there is nothing in–between them but words and memories.

They all talk. Sharing memories of those who are not with them anymore. Words of fallen Empires, of once–grand Nations now gone, of what could have been, of those they had loved and hated and admired and respected and…

And Germany knows that later on they will smile, and share lighter memories and feel complete, as the night is still young, and they feel like they have all the time in the world… and it will last. And he knows that in the morning they'll go back to their lives, to war and to the light of the sun, and they'll fight, and live, because that's how it is.

But under that moon, with flames vibrating in their hands, they're more than just nations, they're more than just flesh and blood and brain.

They are, they were, and they will be, and it's just perfect.

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**SOY:** this was it. I hope you enjoyed your read.

_μητέρα:_ mother in greek. (reads: metera)

_nonno Roma:_ grandpa Rome (italian)


End file.
